


Please Break Into My Flat

by itsquietcompany



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29869257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsquietcompany/pseuds/itsquietcompany
Summary: Hux moves into a new apartment and promptly manages to lock herself out.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rey
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Please Break Into My Flat

**Author's Note:**

> This actually happened to me (well, more or less). I was telling this story on discord and some people thought it would be nice to turn my thoughtlessness into a fic.  
> This is also my first time writing f/f Reyux!  
> And last but not least, many thanks to London for beta-reading.

The screwdriver has to be somewhere here. Hux is _sure_ of it, she just used it to assemble the shelf. She lets out a frustrated sigh.

The state of the flat is driving her insane. Hux’s sense of order borders on OCD.

She is in the process of tidying up, but she just moved in yesterday and most of her stuff is still in boxes – naturally they are labeled and already in the right room but nevertheless, moving is a lot of work, even more when you’re doing it alone.

No one said it would be easy to start over, but no one said it would be this hard, either.

It had been Hux’s own choice to make that step, quitting her high-paying job at her father’s company, cutting ties with him entirely and finally moving across the country to really drive her point home.

This place is a far cry from her former penthouse suite: It has two tiny rooms and an even smaller bathroom and is about one third as big as her old place. The kitchen and bathroom appliances are old and battered, the floorboards are scratched and the windows are barely keeping the icy winter air out. Even the new city isn’t as shiny as the old one. Most houses are old, the streets have pot holes and it’s got not much to offer in terms of entertainment. But it’s affordable.

To be honest, Hux feels a little straight out of college, living on her own for the very first time. That’s not so far from the truth, she might’ve had her own place for years but she never had to do her own housework. Cleaning, cooking and doing the laundry had been done for her.

She also can’t remember ever having to put her name on the mailbox or next to the doorbell, but that’s something that needs doing now, and for that she needs said screwdriver.

Hux walks into the bedroom and inspects the recently assembled shelf. Of course the screwdriver sits right on top of it, where she’d left it.

Hux puts on her coat and pockets the screwdriver. While pulling the door closed behind her she notices the broken shade of the lamp on the opposite corridor wall and makes a mental note to inform the landlord about it.

There’s an elevator, but it doesn’t work, so Hux takes the stairs. It’s only one level anyway, not the penthouse – not that this building has a penthouse. It’s just an old apartment complex. Her previous residence had had a state-of-the-art elevator, and a keypad instead of –

Keys.

Hux stops dead and feels her stomach drop like an elevator with the strings cut. With shaking hands she feels her coat pockets and finds nothing but the screwdriver. She knows exactly where the keys are: on the table in the living room, where she dropped them because she doesn’t have a key holder yet.

_Shit._

She sprints back up with her heart in her throat, _maybe I didn’t pull the door properly closed,_ she thinks and frantically jiggles the doorknob – the door stays put. Hux hisses _“Fuck!”_ and slams her fist against it.

No one else has a key to her flat, all the keys are inside. There’s no other option than to call a locksmith and have them break the lock.

And she doesn’t even have her phone with her to call for help, Hux realizes.

Of course everything has to go to shit as soon as Hux decides to go her own way, _of course._ This would never have happened if she’d just stayed put, worked her ass off under her father’s thumb, endured his never-ending criticism and devaluation of her work and silently cashed in the money – had that really been so bad?

There’s no use in contemplating that now.

Right now, she has to find someone to lend her a phone and give her a locksmith’s number, who works on Sundays, which complicates the matter even more. And on top of that, Hux _hates_ asking for help.

She’s not going to knock on her next-door neighbor’s door. Hux has met the guy this morning when she had drilled a hole into the wall, and next-door-neighbor had shown up on his doorstep to inform her of today’s day of the week in a pissed-off tone (it is indeed Sunday), which has told Hux that next-door-neighbor likes to sleep past 10 o’clock on the weekend. So yeah, Hux decides not to bother him any further. On the other hand, the guy is hunky enough to break the door down with a swing of his paws, but then Hux would have no door anymore, and that doesn’t solve her problem either.

There are two more apartments down the hall, so Hux tries her luck there. She rings one of the doorbells and waits anxiously, putting together an explanation in his head for the intrusion. From inside the flat, she hears footsteps – good, someone’s home. The door opens, and the first thing Hux notices is the waft of heat coming from inside. The place is like an oven, compared to the chilly hallway.

Likewise, the inhabitant is dressed like she’s about to go to the beach, not like it’s January and currently freezing cold outside. She’s a scrawny young woman, wearing grey Capris, a white short-sleeved tunic, and Adidas slippers. Her dark blonde hair is done up in a messy bun. Her hazel eyes watch Hux curiously.

Hux opens her mouth, ready to unspool her story.

“Hi! I’m the new neighbor, and I already managed to lock myself out, I was literally just about to put my name on the –“

The woman nods sharply.

“One moment, I’ll get a card.”

Hux shuts her mouth and frowns. _Card?_

She vanishes for a moment; Hux can hear her opening a drawer and rummaging in it. Then she reappears, keys in one hand and, yes, some kind of credit card or membership card in the other. Hux expects her to hand it to her, but she walks straight past her, slippers flapping against her naked soles with every step.

Completely dumbfounded, Hux follows her. She stops in front of Hux’s closed door and kneels down on the doormat.

With a lopsided smile she looks back up at Hux and says:

“I did this for the previous tenant, too.”

Then she forces the card between the door leaf and the door frame, somewhere at the height of the lock, and begins a sawing-like downward motion.

 _Okay,_ Hux thinks, _if this works at least I don’t have to spend money on a locksmith._

How does she even know how to do that? Is that one of the things people who didn’t grow up filthy rich just learn, like which cleaning product to use for what purpose, or does Hux happen to live door to door with a petty criminal?

The might-be burglar grunts. Breaking and entering doesn’t look easy, Hux can see the muscles in her neck and her right arm strain, and Hux wonders why her first impression has been that this girl is _scrawny –_ she’s not muscular like next-door-neighbor, but she’s not lean either. Hux bites her lip as she watches the muscles work underneath the golden skin. _How does she stay tanned in the winter?_

The woman swears under her breath and pulls the card out. Hux can briefly see that it’s already bent out of shape before it’s jammed back with renewed vigor.

A minute ticks by and Hux begins to doubt. She will have to call a locksmith after all, which will be pretty embarrassing – not even here for a full day and already locked out like a child who’s used to their mother being home all day. And then she’ll have to _pay_ for it –

The door opens with a click and Hux’s jaw drops. The woman lets out a triumphant “Ha!”

“You’re incredible,” Hux breathes.

The woman just grins and holds up the card. It’s ruined now, completely bent and it has deep gashes where the lock had resisted.

“Throw this away for me, will you,” she says with a wink, hands a flustered Hux the piece of plastic and walks back to her flat with her flapping slippers.

Hux watches her until she shuts the door, then she closes her own and leans against it with a relieved sigh.

 _Maybe I should be worried that it’s that easy to break into my flat,_ she thinks, but she can’t bring herself to care. Mostly, she’s relieved.

She smiles to herself and turns the broken card around in her hands. It’s a gym membership card, issued for _Rey Johnson._

Her name is _Rey._


End file.
